


The Joining

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Darkran Sherlock, gone for several months, returns victorious, but deathly ill. Estranged from his husband, Darquan John Watson, for nearly two years before he left for battle, there is a lot they need to say to each other, but one secret comes to light that can change everything.





	The Joining

**Author's Note:**

> My 100th post on AO3!

Sherlock climbed the steps to the bedchamber. 

It was an excellent celebration; minstrels, dancers, magicians and fireworks.  His army’s confrontation at Guanzexiar was a formidable, but well-earned victory.  Well deserving of the food and drink to celebrate his recovery after weeks at the mercy of a seemingly deadly sickness. Oh, and the lamb, the roasted lamb! Marinated in some brew that John’s family concocted years ago was simply divine!

_Ydarkra! Am I not upstairs yet?_

A lot of long steps made even longer after several drafts of drink. It was an excellent celebration indeed!  John certainly outdid himself in its last minute execution. It was a shame the stress of it all caused him to retire early.  Granted it’s been a couple of hours since the darquan left, and in fact there were a couple of dozen revelers still in the great hall, but now seemed as good a time as any to join his darquan and retire for the night.

The reports he has received of John's actions during his absence, were a unique pleasure, he had not expected to enjoy.  He knew he would be an excellent darquan given time and experience, but not so early in his tenure.  His pride in choice of Darquan as he read and heard, report after report was evident. He wished he could show him just how much so, other than mere proclamations and trinkets.

The thought of holding his love’s body close to his now that the sickness had left was as warming to him as the stones that comprised the steps that separate him from that very pleasure were cold.  The only thing colder perhaps was the heart of that same love.  To be able to behold the beauty that is John fully clothed in Ydarkra Rohn’s finest is its own glory.  To see his nude, honeyed skin luminescent in the glow of candlelight? That glory is even more so.

_Oh, wish I the gift of painters to honor that glow!_

Though he gathered his darquan would not consider renderings of his naked form decorating the walls of the palace to be such an honor. Even the indigo dyes upon his forehead, temples and neck that permanently mark his station as Darquan just seem to add to his beauty. To hold such beauty oh so close to his own body and not being able to do a damned thing more was such an excruciatingly sweet torment as to cause Sherlock actual physical pain. 

Knowing he is the cause of the rift, does not help.  Sherlock gave his word as Darkran that he would not to forcibly take what was rightfully his. John had to give of himself willingly or Sherlock did not want it.  He swore as Darkran.  As Darkran.  There is no word more absolute, save that of Ydarkra Himself.  He was bound to his oath.  Were he not Darkran he knows he could not hurt John more than he already has. The fact that he loved John more than anything on this sweet earth just added to the pain.  The past few weeks since his return, John has shown a pleasure toward his presence that he had not shown in the two previous years that he had been blessed to have him as Darquan.  Sherlock had felt the slight change in John’s feelings before he left for Guanzexiar, but was not sure. Everything in his being as he and the Tekra nursed him back to health upon his return screamed John’s love for Sherlock. Sherlock’s personal vorn had hinted at some of his considerably less than Darkran moments as fevers racked his body, yet John barely left his side during the entire ordeal. 

The Tekra Anderson had prescribed several remedies most of which seemed to be worse than the sickness itself and Sherlock vaguely recalled John how had held him as he purged in the most unDarkran manner from such.  The only time Sherlock can recall John leaving his side for any extended period, is when he returned with several potions that tasted as fetid as flatulence from a wild boar was foul. It was ghastly! John claimed it was something new from the Tekra, but Sherlock knew better. 

Naturally, Tekra Anderson was as willing to take claim for the Darkran’s sudden recovery, as John seemed willing to let him.  Sherlock knew that whatever was in that most disgusting of concoctions was what finally cured him and that it was of John’s doing. When Sherlock was finally able to stay lucid for two whole days without fevers they knew the worst was over and John threw this double fete in his honor just shy of a fortnight afterward.  All of which Sherlock knew was perfectly normal behavior for a Darkran and Darquan still young in their marriage.  Their outward appearance of a happy marriage was perfectly intact due to several well-acted moments of getting “caught” being amorous before he left.  Only he and John knew of the darquan’s still virginal status. It is what made the kiss John gave him yesterday all the more special.

Sherlock was openly admiring additions John had the engineers include in an irrigation design with his best friend, Gregory in the Armory. It was the only other room John would allow him to go to, besides the bedchambers, as he continued to recover. He did not know John was within earshot while he was being particularly expressive of the sharpness of John’s mind until he felt John’s arms around him.  He nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, much to the amusement of both John and Gregory. After thanking Sherlock for his compliments on his work John leaned around and kissed him full on the lips. Sherlock was stunned for all of two seconds before he returned the kiss hungrily. He wanted to laugh aloud when John suddenly became shy in the aftermath of his actions, blushing profusely and apologizing for his most inappropriate behavior in public areas, before walking away.  The kiss which John willingly (and publicly!) gave was honest.  Sherlock knew it was honest and it filled him with such joy and hope to be its recipient, that the return to the sweet torment as if nothing had changed between them that same night was all the more painful. 

_You will come to me willingly within the next fortnight, my darquan, I swear this!_

He nodded night tidings to the sentries on duty and pushed open the heavy wood doors to the royal chambers.  He was greeted by the heady scent of incense, flowers and beeswax candles. The chamber was softly lit by candlelight and decorated with floral arrangements. A vessel of water sat on the table a few feet from the bed and he poured a goblet for himself.  He jokingly wondered just how much he drank as he began to unbutton his doublet. He glanced at the bed and noticed John was not there just as an extra set of hands appeared from behind to him unbutton the doublet.

Sherlock froze. 

Other than being forced into sleeping naked with him due to their ‘arrangement’, John had never touched him in any loving fashion other than to enforce the illusion of their marriage in public.  Never before had he even remotely given any indication of wanting to know him in any other fashion, but there was no mistaking the intent of the strong hands that ran a most enticing pattern across his back. 

Sherlock turned around in surprise.

“Ydarkra blessings befall you, my Darkran.” John smiled at the stunned expression Sherlock knew was on his face as John slid the heavy material from his shoulders and kissed his arm through the sleeve of his shirting. “You must be tired from so much merriment, especially after your extended ills.  Let me assist you with your vestments.”

If John’s assistance was a surprise, the fact that John was doing so entirely naked nearly floored Sherlock. His only adornments were being his royal markings and the matching wedding ring to his.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked hoarsely and not all that jokingly.  He could see John was trying, and miserably failing, to hide a grin as John stood before him and bowed formally.

_Ydarkra! What is he doing?!_

Sherlock took a much needed gulp of the cool water.

“I am John Hamish Watson. I am Darquan John, Darquan of Ydarkra Musgrave.  I am John, spouse to Darkran William Sherlock Scott Holmes of Ydarkra Musgrave.  I believe most know you as Darkran Sherlock, King of Ydarkra Musgrave. I am your Darquan, my Darkran. Now I wish to be your love. In _all_ sense of the title.” With that John stood from his bow, raised up on his toes and kissed Sherlock. His naked body pressed very close to Sherlock's as he pulled himself closer. The water goblet barely, just barely made a safe return to its stand before Sherlock’s arms surrounded John.

Sherlock gave a silent prayer of thanks to Ydarkra as John held him, truly held him for the first time as his husband.  Feeling the muscles of John's back underneath his fingers, smelling the scented oils used on his body. Sherlock had waited for so long for this moment. Now that it was here, he could not, would not rush it.

Slowly, he returned the kiss, his tongue tasting sweet remnants of the cider that was his favorite drink and a tremor went through both of their bodies at the contact. Sherlock began to run kisses across John's neck and shoulders and had to smile at the hints of jasmine in his scent. He knew the flowers were not in the room. John had made a point of never having them in the bedchambers from the day Sherlock not so jokingly let it slip that the scent of the flower enticed him.  John obviously remembered to use it when it counted.  Sherlock realized John was on tiptoe to accommodate his height and sweeps him into his arms carrying him to the massive bed. 

Out of habit, John immediately reached for the covers to pull them upon himself. Sherlock gently grabbed his wrists stopping him, and wagged a finger.

“Not tonight.” Sherlock’s voiced rumbled with emotion to the deep blush that flushed through John as he released the sheeting.

“No. Not tonight.” John conceded; instead reaching for the ceremonial sashes at Sherlock's waist. Fighting the urge to do it for himself, he let John undo the sashes with as the slow equal care in which he tied them this morning, then a breath of exasperation escaped John.

“Ydarkra! I fear my king; this long delay leaves me with no patience in being genteel or in any way well-mannered at this moment. If you thus desire to use any of this finery at a future ceremony you may want to remove them yourself. I very much fight the urge to take blade and simply slice through all that covers you.” To emphasize the point he removed the jeweled dagger from its scabbard at his waist.

“Oh no, no, no my darquan!  As you have tortured me for all this time in waiting, I am afraid I absolutely must take this opportunity to repay you in kind.” He knew he wore the smile that has often resulted in John calling him names no proper Darquan should ever utter. “You will remove these articles of clothing with as much care and consideration in which you dressed me this day, as you had insisted on doing yourself although my vorn and I were quite capable of doing such on our own.”

“Oh?"  John dipped his head and grinned.  "Well, if you insist, my Darkran.”

It was the most beautiful thing Sherlock had seen, since first gazing upon John’s face when his troop arrived through the citadel gates.  Sherlock had the suspicion that he just passed some sort of test, when without another word, all the precise care and time from this morning was reduced to the removal of two jeweled daggers, a brooch and a couple of simple tugs and he was quite effectively devoid of all sashes.  At that moment Sherlock knew exactly why John insisted on dressing him.

_He has planned this day down to the night!_

Just when Sherlock thought he could not possibly want John more, he did. 

The surprises continued, as John not so gently pushed him backwards and proceeded to strip him with astounding efficiency as he rained kisses along Sherlock's body in the process. Sherlock nearly lost it when John ran his tongue along the fine hairs that unofficially separate his private areas from his abdomen. He wondered for a moment if John discovered the House of Adler scrolls and had done some reading. John’s obvious enjoyment in providing that very pleasure increased Sherlock’s tenfold.

They took turns in discovering each other bodies. John especially, delighting in feeling Sherlock’s entire body convulse after discovering another particularly sensitive spot in the crease where Sherlock’s thigh and hip met.

Sherlock reveled in repaying him in kind as his own kisses covered John’s body. Knowing John would not know control yet, he carefully took the length of John’s hardness to mouth. His tongue laved over, under and around, watching as John quivers when Sherlock cups his cheeks and lifts him to his lips and…

Sherlock grins.

“Oh, you _have_ read the House of Adler scrolls!”

John leans up on his elbows panicked “Was I wrong? I read it to be easier for you, and and…”

John glanced at Sherlock’s full erection quickly looked away. He bit his lip as he squared his shoulders and looked him in the eye as he continued “...and I’ve seen _you_. I don’t want to hurt too much and…you're _laughing_?”

Sherlock, delighted by the sight of the cord and knowing the beads that would be attached, did not realize John would take his laughter as mockery until he sees the man’s crestfallen face.

“Oh John, my John no! I am enamored, honored by all that you’ve done to prepare for this night!” Sherlock quickly kisses him. “This is wonderful. I commend your foresight, this will make it easier for us both. Lay back down my love, let my prove it. ”

John does as bidden, his body pliant, full of love and trust and it is not long before Sherlock has him moaning again. He reaches between John’s legs and quickly pulls the cord and two ceramic beads pop out. Only his kisses suppress John’s loud moan as his back arches from the bed. Enjoying the sound of John’s soft mewling of his name as Sherlock removes the beads entirely and kisses him in as private a place as possible. His tongue flickering lightly at the puckered flesh until John was a moaning mass of pleasure.

Sherlock kisses his way back up and slides his cock along John’s in a slow rhythm, as he reaches for the flagon he knows contain the needed oils. John pants heatedly in anticipation watching as Sherlock pours the lightly scented oils into John’s hand and uses it stroke his length. Sherlock oils his fingers, three of which slide into John with little resistance. The beads have done their job, and John is once is quivering and moaning before Sherlock withdraws his fingers, placing his himself just at his entrance. He feels as John tenses slightly in anticipation.

He paused and waited until John opened his eyes in confusion.

Sherlock knew it was foolish.  He knew it was vain, but he had to _know_. His feelings for John had always been out in the open. But until these past few weeks Sherlock was always in question of his.  He had to hear it said. John read him perfectly and smiled gently, his deep blue eyes dark with need stared into his as he reached up and stroked Sherlock’s face.  On some instinctive level, Sherlock knows everything they were and everything they’re going to be begins in this moment, this moment that should have started almost three years ago.

“Yes, my king, my soul, my life, my husband, I love you Darkran William Sherlock Scott Holmes of Ydarkra Musgrave. I love you, Sherlock.” He felt rather than heard the restrained urgency in John’s voice as he entered him. 

_“ **Tusarie Ydarkra Joth!** ” _

Sherlock all but screamed the words as a fire seared through his mind and body so hot, fast and furious he simply could not find the voice to scream.

He immediately looked down upon his love; his first thought wondering what had John done to him.  He just as immediately knew to the core of his being that he would never, could never hurt him. He suddenly remembered receiving the small gold chain that dangled a golden disk with the royal Ydarkra seal and blue gems of the N’varren mines and the pride in becoming a Gheyanaa; lead dancer at Festival.  Sherlock's mind spun. 

 _Gheyanaa’s are girls!_  

His mind spun again as he beamed in pleasure at the smile on his Adonii’s face when presented with the disk of his grandson’s accomplishment as archer while his sister, Harriet showed off her Gheyanaa disk.

_Oh, John danced in his twin sister’s place and won the award for her._

John’s Adonii and twin sister passed into Rohn’s Hall many years ago. Long before Sherlock met John, yet at that moment he knew exactly what the old woman and John's twin looked like.  Instinctively, Sherlock knew they were John’s memories, they had to be, but why was Sherlock feeling, truly _feeling_ the immense sorrow of John's Adonii’s passing?

_Ydarkra! What is happening to me?_

John actually did scream the words that seared through their heads, and only Sherlock’s immediate instinct to kiss him stifled any further screams. John called out to Mycroft. John’s hand even reached out to grasp for him in the same desperation in which Sherlock had back then. Sherlock gasped in shock.  Mycroft passed into the Rohn’s Hall when Sherlock was ten and five years. Of the six who witnessed the death of his brother, only he, Sir Gregory Lestrade and Lady Salvadora Donovan were still alive. There was absolutely no way John would know of it except to have pulled it from his own memory as he was somehow pulling John’s memories. They had each tapped into meaningful events of their lives as they stared at each other; John obviously in the same state of confusion as he.

The answer came to him through John.

 _Prijiaan_.

Sherlock recoiled in horror.

His love, the one being he loved above and beyond everything in Ydarkra’s creation was Prijiaan?!

_The one thing I have been taught to loath, to hate, to kill since I could pronounce the vile words.  Ydarkra!_

Sherlock left the bed, grabbed the jeweled dagger and returned, the blade stopping a mere hairsbreadth from John’s throat with a blinding speed that surprised them both.

John immediately fell into EntectarKesk, the supplicant form learned so many years ago as an Ombeyant adept that was as deeply instilled within John as the first impulse to kill was within Sherlock.  The only thing that kept Sherlock from following through on that instinct was the absolute knowledge that John truly did not know of his curse. Sherlock could feel the deep hurt within his own soul as John silently cursed his Adonii for not telling him the truth as John suddenly understood the reasoning behind every lesson Rosalie Pauline Watson pounded into him and his sister.

To protect themselves Prijiaan and Taprashii pass their knowledge along parent to child only if the child showed signs of having been majinn touched. It was not uncommon for Prijiaan or Taprashii parents to have non-majinned children. Thus knowing he was of Prijiaan lineage, John had accepted it at face value that he was not of the majinn. After all he had been _read_ hadn’t he? Read by the Royal’s own DeMarnos before he and Sherlock were allowed to marry and still, John was here beside him.  John’s parents died in the rains the year he and Harriet  were born, thus the responsibility fell to their Adonii. Though Harriet exhibited the signs of being of the majinn, John did not. Rosalie a Prijiaan herself, chose to teach in a way that gave her grandchildren what they needed to survive without ever giving away that he grandson was Prijiaan also. John truly never suspected it of himself, in fact had no clue to what magic he may have.

Sherlock flung the blade to the floor where it landed embedded into the wood. 

That it was also thrown within easy reach of retrieval was not lost on John.

_Ydarkra!_

He turned to John suddenly, as another realization dawned upon him.

John had curled into the corner of the bed pleading for his forgiveness and his life, terrified of Sherlock’s instinctive reaction. John was speaking the words, but Sherlock felt John’s inner fear as surely as he realized John could feel Sherlock's own turmoil. John felt for him, John knew by all rights that he had to be executed.  He was Prijiaan.  It was law. Sherlock could feel – could actually _feel_ John’s terror, at having to be slain by the hand he had so grown to love beyond anything in this life. He would allow it, Sherlock to kill if he felt he must.           

John did not fear the actuality of his death itself, but what he knew his death in this manner it would do to Sherlock.  He was not afraid to die for the sake of his own soul.

John is afraid to die for the sake of _mine!_  

That brought forth another even more powerful realization and John’s head snapped up in sudden hope as that same realization found its way into his being.

_Tusarie Ydarkra Joth ._

Better known as The Joining among the majinn born; the ultimate in sharing between lovers.  It can occur as long as at least one of the united is pure Prijiaan born. The couple is forever locked together in heart and soul. They will share every thought and emotion of their mate as well as their own. Making love, the ultimate expression of a couple's feeling for each other is doubly reciprocated as one experiences their own pleasure and that of their mate simultaneously. It must be equal in its intensity for both or it will not happen. It was verboten to even talk about it openly. John would not have had Tusarie Ydarkra Joth explained to him until the morning after his wedding night but only if he had actually experienced Joining and asked someone among the majinned about it. By his assumed wedding night, his Adonii was long gone and absolutely no one knew that after nearly three years of being married, tonight was their true wedding night. Had Sherlock not been Darkran born and learned all of this at the tutelage of the DeMarnos neither he nor John would now know this much.

It is said among those who believed in the majinned that Tusarie Ydarkra Joth is the closest one can ever come to knowing the feeling of being with Ydarkra Himself.  Above all else, Joining can only occur between to people who do in fact love each other above and beyond all else.

_When you remove the impossible, all else no matter how improbable, was the eternal truth._

Any doubt of John’s love for Sherlock and his for John, was erased by that simple irrefutable fact. They were _Joined_.  

_Tusarie Ydarkra Joth!_

Through Ydarkra is all joined.

Sherlock reached out to John, pulling him into his arms. His fingers slide across the scar on John's left shoulder blade and more memories flood in. Both gasp in the realization they have at last identified each other at the wading pool from oh so many years ago.  Through John, Sherlock sees how John stayed in that prone position for quite some time after he, Gregory and his brother rode off, all the while terrified of being seen, until John’s best friend Michelle Stamford came for him.  He realizes how John did not lie when claiming the scar to be reminder of a childhood mistake and could not honestly claim to know how it got there. John had not opened his eyes even when he was accidentally knocked over.

_What had he said then?_

“All that is meant to be known to us, Ydarkra makes known to us, in a time of His own making.” He heard John’s trembling voice recite the words within his own soul as surely, as if he had spoken them aloud. 

_Indeed Ydarkra had finally let them know in His own time._

Words were not spoken. On some level Sherlock realized he may never again need them with him at least within the privacy of this chamber. Not knowing what else to do, Sherlock kissed him.  The relief that flooded through his body, flooded through him. The pleasure of the kiss and the feel of his body that flooded through him flooded through him.

At first, they moved slowly.  Having waited so long for, both of them wanted to savor the moment even more in light of this newest discovery.  Still, the very hunger for the moment itself could not be denied, as they took all that they gave to each other and then some. John having nothing to compare it to took it for all it was worth. Sherlock having considerable more experience marveled in each sensation as though brand new.  His fingers trace intoxicating patterns across John's back and arms and he finds himself tingling from the impossibly gentle, but definite presence of his touch.  Sherlock's raw admiration of John's body displayed in his expression.  He is as embarrassed as much as it pleases him.

Sherlock touches him lightly, but to John it was as if he were suddenly everywhere at once as where his caresses went his kisses followed.  He could actually feel what felt good to John and how John instinctively moved to reciprocate the feeling within him. Sherlock gasps as John touches him, setting his own personal fire to every square inch of him.  Sherlock can’t help but enjoy John's wicked satisfaction when a moan escapes from Sherlock's lips as John finds his hardness and uses the joining to increase his pleasure.

A moan escapes from John and Sherlock knows John feels his own wicked desire as the heat of the kisses to his most intimate of places causes John to cry out his name.  His kisses his way back up his body until they are face to face again, he pulls a pillow under John’s hips, positioning himself and feels John’s pause. Sherlock sees and feels the questioning within him.  Unlike the first pause, Sherlock feels when John feels his soul. The things he cannot yet put into words flowing through him. 

Everything he has learned to believe changes with this acceptance of him, of all of him. He knows he cannot give him all that he wants as a Prijiaan, yet, but he equally knows that he will give him all that he has. It is enough and within himself, he hears John's fervent, desperate plea.

“Please! Now!”

And he enters John anew.

Sherlock bit his lip in the unexpected burst of pain. He stills for a moment feeling John, and his pain subside, he slowly beginning to move, promising it will soon get better. He kisses him and slowly adjusts his rhythm as he begins to understand the feel of the most intimate of pleasure.

The incredible sensations of first time flow to Sherlock anew through John. All the fear, all the excitement, all the joy from a whole new perspective. It is all he can do not to simply stare in wonder of the moment, but the body has its own needs.  They find a rhythm. Slow and controlled at first until neither can hold back anymore and give in with full abandon. John’s fingers dig into him as the complete wonder of loving making pushes him to the brink. Sherlock felt tears and truly did not know if they were John’s or his, nor did he care. The joining pushing his levels of pleasure and control beyond anything he had ever thought he had known to the point when all exploded within and without.

“Is it always like this?” John quietly asks several long moments later as sanity returns.

Sherlock shakes his head in quick denial. In all his exploits and experiments with sex before he chose celibacy and he admitted to many, he knew he had no choice now, Tusarie Ydarkra Joth adds a level of intensity, of love, of pleasure and intimacy that has no possible equal in the non-majinned world. He says the words aloud to John anyway.

John draws ancient Ydarkran symbols across Sherlock’s chest, symbols that are never taught to a Darquan.  He immediately stops as Sherlock’s thoughts reaches his; Sherlock immediately stops the train of thought as John’s apprehension reaches him and forces himself to relax. He know John felt the apology within him when John relaxes in understanding. 

Prijiaan knowledge or not this was going to be a serious learning curve for both of them. 

Sherlock had absolutely no one he could turn to for advice without revealing the secret and thus placing both of their lives and the kingdom at risk. He realized through John's similar thoughts that John was equally bound to the secrecy for the same reasons.  Trapped in the secrecy of their joining, their joining was expression of their love, and their love was the reason for their joining.

_Ydarkra!_

Sherlock groaned aloud. 

John leaned up on one arm to look at him. Sherlock started to speak, but he felt John’s desire for silence just as the darquon placed a finger to his lips. Sherlock then smiled as he felt John’s next thought and followed through by caressing Sherlock's face. Sherlock followed through on the thought, by leaning down to kiss him. Sherlock burst into laughter, springing to life at John’s unmasked desire.

He outwardly responds by guiding John’s hand to his own physical response to the silent request, drawing him close.

“Yes, we can do this again, tempter.”

◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►◄▼►

Voices awaken Sherlock and he realizes the Tekra is the chamber with him. He was about to panic seeing the evidence of their love-making in the bed but not John.  He immediately feels John within him ordering him to relax and listen. 

It is disconcerting for a moment before he remembers last night. 

_Tusarie Ydarkra Joth._

Sherlock does as instructed and listens as John explains aloud how he somehow cut himself with the jeweled ceremonial blades that adorned the Darkran vestments, as they were undressing for the night.  It was not so worthy a wound to awaken the Tekra in the middle of the night for his services, but the darkran insisted that he see to it at first light.  Sherlock almost choked in laughter, as comprehension dawns upon him.

At some point in the night, John went to use the privy chamber. He nearly tripped over the blade Sherlock had flung to the floor, half asleep he wasn’t paying attention when he reached down and snatched the blade out of the floor and cut himself. Neither were about to explain why the blade was in the floor. John could have taken care of the wound himself, but as he would have to call the tekra for the proper dressings, he just let the man do it.

“The fault, I’m afraid, was mine.” Sherlock made a modest show of yawning as he sat up in bed, brushing strands of his dark curls from his face. “Having been away from my darquan for so long and to have it further delayed by that Ydarkran forsaken illness, I may have been somewhat - hasty - in the removal of my vestments as my darquan and I – um - celebrated - my recovery.”

“Darkran!” Came the astonished outcry from Tekra Anderson as he tended John’s hand. Both men laughed heartily as Anderson lifted his head smiling himself. 

“There!” The tekra tied the bandage with a flourish, stood and bowed. “Your hand will scarcely show a mark, if any at all, when it is healed, my Darquan.  I bid unto Ydarkra a fair morning to you both.”

“As we bid unto you, my gentle Tekra.” John inclined his head in dismissal.

Sherlock could feel the stifled bubble of laughter within his darquan, knowing John could feel the emotional equivalent of Sherlock rolling his eyes, even as he bid his own proper farewell to the healer.  When the chamber door closed solidly behind the physician, they released the laughter. 

“Good morning, my darquan.” He grinned, climbing out of the bed to get water. “I confess to forgetting how your mind can work. I miss playing rigiotta with you, you have…John!” 

It was Sherlock’s turn to be astonished as John’s full admiration for his naked form and the immediate lust it stirred within him came to him.  Sherlock could not help it as images from just a couple of hours ago flooded through John to him and brought an undeniably physical response.

“Ydarkra!  This is impossible!”  Sherlock slammed the goblet down in frustration.  John simply arched a knowing blond brow as his Sherlock’s stiffening form belied his truer feelings. John stood, loosening the ties on his dressing gown, letting it slowly fall from his shoulders.

“Curse you!” Sherlock crossed the space between them in quick massive strides, kissing John just before the robe fully hit the floor.  It was rumored that you could always tell a couple who have _Joined_ because they do not leave the bridal chamber for days. 

Sherlock now understood why as they engage in a repeat performance.

**Author's Note:**

> I was drunk, the weird words popped into my head, Muse was all "ooooooooh!". No backstory, no continuation. Just this. I'm kind of hoping Muse will come back to this some day and let me flesh it out.


End file.
